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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27644096">How To Deal With Your Friend Falling In Love In What He Thinks Is Secret: A series of observations, by Ralph Spina</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariamegale/pseuds/mariamegale'>mariamegale</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Call me 'sweetheart', please? [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Band of Brothers (TV 2001)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Behind the Scenes, Friendship, Heartbreak, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Panic Attacks, Third Party POV, he is also a smart and chill cookie, i guess, ralph is witness to a lot of things, who is over his friends being idiots</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:34:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,623</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27644096</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariamegale/pseuds/mariamegale</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You have to go pick up Eugene,” Renée tells him the second he picks up. “I don’t know what happened, Ralph. He called and asked if he could stay here for the night, but didn’t want to tell me what… I think he’s been crying, and I didn’t want to push it. I just said I’d send you over, because you have the car. Please, tell me you can?”</p><p>Well, of all the things that could have derailed his night, this was not one he was expecting. “What the hell?”</p><p>“I don’t know, Ralph,” Renée says, annoyance coating her voice. He can recognise it as that specific brand of ‘I cannot control this situation, so I hate it’ frustration that her and Eugene both have in common, but she’s even busting out the guttural R as she says his name, and she only does that when she’s stressed or worried out of her mind.</p><p>And then she continues, “I asked if Babe was home, but apparently he’s not, and Gene doesn’t even want me to call him? I don’t understand what’s going on,” and Spina’s heart sinks. Because oh no. Oh no, this isn’t good.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Babe Heffron/Eugene Roe, Ralph Spina &amp; his nerd friends (Minor or Background Relationship)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Call me 'sweetheart', please? [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1722178</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>How To Deal With Your Friend Falling In Love In What He Thinks Is Secret: A series of observations, by Ralph Spina</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>remember when I said "no more ridiculously long fic titles" i lied</p><p>WELL IT HAS BEEN A MINUTE and i'm sorry about that. Here are some good news, though: CMS is all but finished, meaning that I will publish the last couple of parts within the next few weeks. That's something, isn't it, both fun and lowkey terrifying lmao.</p><p>A quick note on this specific part: It's in Ralph's POV, which I know literally nobody came in here expecting (or wanting, possibly) and it goes over the whole general timeline of CMS so far. This isn't a spoiler, just a heads up: Some of this will be play-by-play of previous installments, while some of it is brand new fresh content for that grind.</p><p>Is this a weird one? Possibly. I hope you like it anyway. &lt;3</p><p>CONTENT WARNINGS IN THE END NOTES! &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Spina first notices it in passing, and he doesn’t have time to say anything about it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Him and Eugene are passing each other by, Gene starting a shift as Spina gets off his. They say hello in the matter-of-fact way of colleagues rather than friends, Ralph yawning out a ‘hi’ when he gets into the changing room. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Long day?” Eugene asks, and Spina just grumbles in response. He likes kids, he really does, but sometimes he really wishes he hadn’t been put in the paediatric unit. They had a schoolmate who wanted to specialise in nuclear medicine. He should have chosen fucking nuclear medicine.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Go home and sleep, Doc,” Gene says with a snort, back half turned to Spina as he pulls his shirt on and spends little time shutting his locker and leaving, always the diligent worker once he goes into Doctor Mode. “Talk to you later, Ralph.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He gets a “good luck” out, left not-staring at the door in mild confusion as other people get ready to either get on or off work around him. He could have imagined it, sure, but Spina is pretty sure the red marks on Gene’s back qualify as “love bites,” and the sight has him taken a bit by surprise.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s probably just his tired mind, Ralph tells himself after realising he’s getting very close to something akin to pearl-clutching. It’s none of his business, anyway, whether or not Eugene got laid recently. Hook-ups aren’t like him, sure, but Spina can’t really say it’s unlike him, either.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gene is a private enough person that he could suddenly show up with siblings Ralph didn’t know he had, and he’d be surprised, but not hugely. Whatever Eugene’s bedroom habits might be — and that’s not an image he wants to keep in his head for long — is not his concern.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>I need to get home and sleep. And eat something</em>, Ralph thinks. He then says it out loud to himself, because he’s spent the last ten minutes wondering about Gene Roe’s sex life, and he doesn’t know what could be a better sign to get some rest than that.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ralph needs to spend less time with his friends. He’s staging an intervention for himself, because they have started to affect his mind in unacceptable ways and this just isn’t gonna work.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Spina isn’t one for drama. He’s not one for conflict, and he’s definitely not one for intrigue, and that’s good for him because there’s a fuck ton of that to go around. They’re all still traumatised by the multi-chapter saga that was Liebgott and Webster figuring their shit out, which featured opposing factions and secret group chats stemming from other, less secret but still secret group chats.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It also called for a lot of pseudo-therapy-ing from their two resident non-doctors, and Spina has put out a silent death contract on the next person to come to him asking for advice on what to do when you want someone to die, but you also want to fuck them, in no specific order.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So when he suddenly finds himself starting to put puzzle pieces together in his head, squinting at one of his friends more than usual looking for context clues, Spina forces himself to take ten deep breaths because okay. Stop.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The thing is this. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As far as Spina knows, Eugene is not an especially sexually active person. What he’s actually like when— Notwithstanding, he knows both from experience and from just flat out talking about it that Eugene does not do relationships, too busy focusing on school and work, and he rarely does one-night-stands. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And sure, he’s not an over-sharing kind of guy, either, but Spina is pretty sure he’d tell them if he’d started dating anyone — if for no other reason than to spare Babe the pain of having to keep secrets about his roommate.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But. The amount of time Spina has seen him wear obvious signs of sex recently — from marks, to small changes in his walking pattern, to just generally being more relaxed than Ralph has ever known Eugene to be, well. Unless Gene’s “no going out on nights before work” policy has been dropped, or he suddenly changed his mind on dating apps…</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Something is up. And if Spina wants to know what it is, he’s going to have to figure it out himself, because if Eugene wanted to tell him he would have at this point. Ralph justifies his investigation by the fact that Gene really doesn’t seem to care what he does and doesn’t see — the first time might have been an accident, but no man stays unaware of bite marks for that long.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’s not an idiot when it comes to social discretion, though, so he keeps his suspicions to himself, gracefully not mentioning anything to Eugene when they meet at the hospital, or for lunch, or out with their friends.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">What Spina does do is to pay more attention, and once he’s started that, it doesn’t take long to get a sneaking suspicion that the Roe-Heffron household might not be entirely platonic any more. It’s like opening a floodgate — he can’t believe none of them have noticed the small smiles Babe and Gene keep sending each other, looks that last a few seconds too long to be casual. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s a logical conclusion, and he’s not entirely sure why it doesn’t bother him all that much when he comes to it. Maybe it’s because Eugene has never looked more relaxed, maybe it’s because Ralph really thinks regular sex does anyone good. It’s surprisingly unsurprising, too.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The two of them, Babe and Gene, have always been close. As friends, of course, but also physically, most of the time. Naturally, Babe has no concept of personal space with people, but Eugene, for some reason, is fine with it. which doesn’t really make any sense.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">See, Gene is most definitely not fine with it when it comes to anyone else. Buck once enthusiastically hugged the man after UCLA won some basketball tournament or other (he’s not a sports guy, okay?) and Eugene had looked so uncomfortable Ralph hadn’t been able to keep himself from laughing.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They all respect it, of course. Dude’s got the right to his personal bubble, but lately that bubble has also seemed to include a certain redhead. It’s not unusual, especially once you get some alcohol in them, to find Babe draped over his roommate in various positions. On nights in with the group, Babe is most often found with his head in Gene’s lap, or leaning on Gene’s shoulder, hugging him or holding his hand if they’re watching a scary movie.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The difference that Ralph is now seeing, is that Eugene has slowly gone from being just fine with Babe’s affection, to an active participant in the cuddling. Not as enthusiastically as Babe, no, but more and more often Ralph looks over to see Eugene card his fingers through Babe’s hair, or running his hand up and down Babe’s leg, or cuddling back up to him until he’s more in Babe’s lap than Babe is in his.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At one memorable occasion Eugene had fallen asleep in that position, and Babe had stayed quiet the entire rest of the night to not wake him up, whispering his goodbyes when his other friends started to leave.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’d be more jarring if it wasn’t Babe Heffron they were talking about, because again, the man’s a snuggle monster, but once Spina starts to notice the reciprocation he can’t stop.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s not odd, and that’s odd. Again, Gene looks more sincerely relaxed than he has in the whole time Spina has known him, his head on Babe’s shoulder having his scalp scratched, so Spina can’t find it in him to point it out.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">If he wanted it to, it all could come to a head when Ralph walks into the changing room at the hospital one day to see Eugene frown at the mirror on the wall. At his own reflection, and the hickey on his neck.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Spina stops in the door and Gene looks over, relaxing slightly when he sees who it is but not entirely.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not a word,” Eugene warns him, wasting no time to point a finger in Ralph’s face, and Spina raises his hands defensively.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“My lips are sealed,” he replies, walking up next to Gene. “You, uh. Need to borrow a turtleneck?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eugene sighs the sigh of an exasperated man and just nods, still staring at himself in the mirror. Spina gets his locker open and hands over his own emergency white high-necked shirt to his friend. Most of them have one, because most doctors know of The Fear that is showing up to work with something to hide. Spina’s never actually had to hide anything himself, but he’s happy to help a friend out. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gene gratefully takes it, pulling it over his head and starts fussing with the collar. Ralph walks up to him, bats his hands away with a “let me,” and pulls and folds the collar. Gene backs down, giving the other man permission to arrange the garment until his decency is properly protected.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You tell him off?” Spina dares saying, careful to keep his face blank. Eugene works his jaw and mouth in annoyance, looking over Spina’s shoulder like there’s someone else there he’d be glad to glare to hell and back.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, I’m going to tell him.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“There. You should be good. You’re lucky it wasn’t higher, Doc.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gene turns to look in the mirror, twisting to try and inspect himself until he’s satisfied his dignity will be kept intact. “Thank you, Ralph.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No problem.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They’re left in a borderline-uncomfortable silence, Eugene looking like he’s bracing himself, and Spina knows this is the moment, if he wants to bring it up. Gene’s also not an idiot. He must know Ralph has noticed something, even if he can’t tell just how much.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Spina’s suddenly struck, maybe from the way Eugene suddenly looks very insecure, with the realisation that he really has no reason to care. His friends are happy. If they want to keep their thing a secret, he’s not one to force it out of them or to push it in their faces that he’s figured it out.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He knows the conflicted anxiety in Gene’s eyes, too well, and Ralph makes the decision that it’s not his fucking place to force his hand. So he smiles, like he hasn’t noticed the way Eugene is shifting his weight from one foot to the other.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t be too hard on him, Doc. It looks good on you.” Gene blinks, then slowly relaxes again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You think I’m going to tell him that?” He smiles back at Spina, moving back to his locker to pull his scrub shirt on. “You willing to deal with the aftermath, Doc?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Spina snorts, starting to change his own clothes finally. He’s not much for locker room talk, neither is Eugene, but there’s something cathartic about quipping back and forth for a few minutes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The next time he sees Babe, he’s getting quipped by Skip about wearing a shirt Steve Jobs would be proud of. Ralph pretends not to notice the way Gene is hiding his smug smile in his glass. He has the sense there’s going to start being a lot of things he’ll pretend not to notice, these days.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bill is on a really, really uncomfortable crusade right now. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In the man’s own words, “<em>Come on, I ain’t saying Babe is a slut but he’s gone way over his usual time limit here</em>,” the topic being Babe picking guys up — or getting picked up by guys, Spina doesn’t know how he usually does things. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He isn’t going to ask why Bill would even have the knowledge of Babe’s usual ‘time limit’ (the intervention he’s planning for himself is rapidly growing to becoming an intervention for all of them to learn some fucking boundaries) but Bill has decided the man needs to get laid, and he won’t accept failure.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In one sense, it’s sweet. Spina’s not as close to him as Bill is, but he knows about the less than adventurous ways Babe spent his teenage years. Pressing his own gay thoughts down with a desperation only the religiously closeted can, that is. Ralph feels for the man, he really does, and to some extent they all treat Babe like a small gay mascot for the gang in an attempt to make up for it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Any steps Babe takes to be proud of his own self is a victory for all of them.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He also happens to know that Babe is moved at the support, due to having been a recipient of more than one tearful, drunk thank-you speech that was too sincere for him to shut it down as drunk rambling. However, it seems as if Bill is now finding out where Babe finally draws the line on friends getting involved with his love life, and it’s… trying to end his dry streak.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Unfortunately, Bill is missing a vital part of puzzling that together himself, which is that Babe is in fact getting laid on a regular basis. With his roommate, nonetheless, meaning there’s probably not too shallow of a well to draw from when it comes to it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s been a couple of weeks since Ralph really understood this thing between Babe and Gene, but apart from him the two are still keeping it a secret. Or, technically, the secret-keeping includes him too, but the two of them don’t necessarily know that.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So he does what any reasonable friend would do when their best friend’s secret hookup buddy gets hit on. He sends Eugene over there to deal with it, because he wouldn’t touch that with a ten-foot pole. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And God, the exchange between Babe and Eugene that follows is just… Ralph actually looks to see if any of their friends are watching this, because it’s not exactly a subtle display. Gene is dragging his eyes over Babe like he wants to straight up haul the other man out of there, while Babe just blushes ferociously at whatever he just had whispered in his ear.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It doesn’t surprise him one bit when they take all of fifteen minutes to come up with some bullshit excuse to leave, saying goodbye like they can’t get their asses out of there fast enough. They smile at each other like they’re being smart about it, and Ralph almost wants to break his own personal, secret vow of silence to call them out on it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bill gets back from the bathroom just after Gene and Babe have bid their hasty farewell, pausing behind his chair to watch them all but run out of the door together. The man watches them and the way Eugene has one hand on Babe’s back with narrowed eyes, and Spina can almost see the cogs turn in Bill’s head.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>This does not bode well,</em> Ralph thinks.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Like he can feel the eyes on him, Bill looks over where Ralph is not-quite-staring at him, cocking an eyebrow in a way that makes him turn away like it burned him. <em>Yeah, this really doesn’t bode well.</em> As Bill sits down next to him and fixes him with a glare, Ralph has never prayed so hard for his friends to continue to be complete idiots, because he doesn’t know what to do if Bill confronts him about this right now.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Whatever God there is out there must be looking out for him, tonight, because the first thing Bill says isn’t some variation of “<em>How long has Doc been fucking my best friend, and for how long have you known about it and not told me?</em>”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Instead, when Bill opens his mouth, the annoyed words that come out are, “I swear to god, if that doctor friend of yours turns Babe into a fucking sexless shut-in, I will make sure the both of you get acquainted with the view from the other side of that hospital bed.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Turns out the Gods aren’t all-merciful. Although one upside of that whole sentence containing about four different kinds of Guarnere Nonsense is; Ralph finally has a valid reason to lean his face into his hands and groan like he’s dying.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And so he does. Loudly, and the laughter from his friends seems to put an end to the conversation.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ralph gets nearly a month of reprieve after that. Apart from ignoring Eugene in the changing room (which is probably a good thing anyway) and looking away when he opens his lunch box (Babe has been putting notes in them for years, but the way Gene’s whole face lights up is almost painful to watch at this point), all is quiet on the Drama In Spina’s Friends’ Secret Love Lives front. But then George somehow convinces the entire gang to go out to a club.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s not ‘clubbing,’ it’s ‘going out to a club’. Ralph might be okay with joining his friends at a club because they’re hysterical and both George and Babe cry if they don’t get their regular exercise in form of jumping up and down for six hours, but he doesn’t ‘club’. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">(Is ‘club’ the original verb of ‘clubbing’? ‘To club’? Is that right? He should probably look that up, because ‘to club’ sounds like he’s going to commit atrocities to some kind of small fluffy animal. If it isn’t in the dictionary, he should write the dictionary people and make them add it. These things are important.)</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Anyway, he might not be able to justify it, but Ralph and his friends are here now. The gang has been split into two groups; the ones who dance and the ones who would rather get shitfaced in a booth in a relatively quiet corner of the place. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Spina, unsurprising, is in the second category, and honestly he’s having a much better time than he thought he would. Him, Eugene, Bill and Carwood are, as always, the PlaceKeepers in the booth they’ve commandeered — the rest of the gang is running back and forth between the dance floor and/or the bar, getting into various levels of trouble. Both of them are fun to watch, but right now their eyes are glued to the fucking mess that is “the currahee groupchat twinks go dancing (ft. Joe Toye)”.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">While Guarnere resolutely pulls the “only one leg” card to get out of dancing (which is probably for the better; Spina doesn’t think the fabric of reality could deal with the sight of Bill Guarnere in the middle of a strobe lighted dance floor), Toye has never let something like prosthetics stop him from doing much of anything. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He keeps making these half-assed attempts at breaking free, but Luz keeps thwarting them and holding him back in the writhing mess of people half-dancing, half-fucking in the middle of the room. Joe doesn’t seem to mind too much, though, happily letting his boyfriend use him as a stripper pole and managing to look somewhat dignified as he does. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s almost art, watching the two of them, especially next to the disaster that is Babe and David trying to out-twink one another in public. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">For holding himself to such a high standard (the fact that it’s obviously bullshit notwithstanding), Webster sure does like getting messy at every opportunity. Ralph doesn’t even think the man is as much of a lightweight as he makes himself out to be, but is just using it as an excuse to take one shot and then be a slut in the middle of a crowded room.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Don’t get him wrong, Ralph says that lovingly. He appreciates his friends being out there spreading the gay agenda, he really does, but there is only so much one can see of David Webster rolling his spine like he’s gunning for a public indecency fine before losing one’s patience for it. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Not that Web has shit on Babe, though, because the man is an icon in the world of public messiness. Unlike Ken Boy over there, who likes to act like he’s losing himself but doing it with an obvious air of self-consciousness, Babe Heffron is actually a lightweight and actually a messy drunk and actually unaware of how good he looks.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ralph is very glad that it’s not his job to keep the boy safe, is all he’s saying. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Babe is jumping up and down like a child on a sugar rush, sense of balance out the window from equal amounts of mint vodka shots and tossing his head like he wants to walk out of here with whiplash. He’s out of sync with the music, covered in enough glitter to make him look like he’s actually made out of a rainbow working in unison with the lights, bumping into everyone and anyone crazy enough to get close to him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’s flushed pink, shimmering, grinning, scream-singing along to songs he does and doesn’t know, red hair fighting against gravity and hairspray as it gets tossed back and forth, and there is not one boy-interested person in this entire club who isn’t trying to work up the nerve to talk to him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Not that there’d be much talking to be had, because Babe clearly isn’t in the mood for it, jumping between his friends like he’s trapped inside a pinball machine. The only way he’d be going home alone was if he wanted to, and Spina happens to know that when Babe is in this mood, there is no way he wants to go home alone.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And thus, we’re brought up to the latest instalment of “Ralph Wishes He’d Get A Break.” See, just like most other men in this place, his good friend Eugene Roe has also been staring at Babe like he’s bewitched for the past ten minutes. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s starting to get awkward. Carwood left for the bathroom a while ago and Ralph has run out of ways to keep the table distracted, which means that for the past few minutes he’s been staring at Bill staring at Gene staring at Babe, and he might just have to do something drastic to end this fucking stalemate.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Because Babe, their friend/roommate/surrogate baby brother, respectively, has finally been approached by a man who seems to have won the “Taking Babe Heffron Home Tonight” contest that half the people in here have been playing, and Ralph feels his heart ache a bit for Eugene.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He doesn’t actually know how deep this… <em>Thing</em> between them has become, but he’s not an idiot. If Babe is out here letting strangers pull him in by the hips, whispering what is probably sultry filth in his ears, it means that whatever he and Gene have isn’t outspokenly exclusive.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He also doesn’t know if Gene is aware, but he’s not staring like a man who is fine with this.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So Ralph reaches out for him gently, both to end the Mexican Standoff-triangle-thing and to get Eugene to stop looking at his… Whatever the fuck Babe is to him, these days, because whatever kind of self-torture that is isn’t a good idea.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He is not expecting Eugene to look so sincerely confused by his friend’s offer to get him out of the apartment, should Babe bring the guy back, staring between Bill and Ralph like they’re not even speaking English right now.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Things go from awkward to weird, as Bill makes his crude but well-meant — in that way Bill says things that make him sound like an asshole because the concept of “healthily communicating feelings of care” was never taught to him as a child — comments and Eugene responds like they’re both very small children. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As a person who works with children, Ralph knows that voice when he hears it. Actually, he hears it more from children, he should rephrase that. Eugene responds like a child who is fed up with doctors and nurses acting like what they’re going through must be some big scary adventure, when they’ve been able to pronounce “juvenile myelomonocytic leukemia” since they were five.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Point is: Ralph doesn’t know what’s going on. Ralph doesn’t like not knowing what’s going on. As much as he bitches about having to solve his friends’ issues for them all the time, Ralph actually really likes the edge of knowledge it gives him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So when the rest of their friends return from the bar, bringing their loud, drunken shouting with them, Spina quietly scoots over to give them the room and doesn’t take his eyes off his friend. Eugene, meanwhile, doesn’t look back over at him, or Babe, or Bill, and his laugh when Skip starts screaming at Buck for being “a filthy liar and a scoundrel” seems genuine.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Maybe it wouldn’t be a big deal if Babe went home with someone else. Maybe Ralph’s gotten it wrong. He doesn’t know. </span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At some point not long after, Bill excuses himself from the booth. He says he’s going to the bathroom, but Ralph sees him make his way over to the dance floor where Babe still seems to be having the time of his life while Luz and Toye have mysteriously disappeared. They’re no doubt continuing their tradition of defiling every public bathroom they ever come across, but Ralph doesn’t actually care about how fucking disgusting his friends are right now, because there’s something much more dramatic happening here.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Because Bill has reached his friend, one hand on his arm slowly dragging him out of what he was doing. Bill says something to Babe, mouth pushed close to his ear so he can hear, and the boy goes from “barely aware of his surroundings” to “staring intently at his BrotherFriend”. He frowns, asks something, Bill shrugs, and then Babe is immediately making his way back to the rest of the gang with a very determined set in his shoulders. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This leaves Bill standing with a very confused looking young man, looking like he wants to go after Babe but getting stopped with a hand in the middle of his chest. Bill is glaring at the man, who doesn’t seem to understand what just happened.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Who can blame him? Does anyone fucking know what just happened? Ralph’s not asking for a friend, he’s asking for himself. Sighing the sigh of a man sick of his friends, he decides to just look away from whatever nightmare that is about to turn into. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Babe returns to their booth, plopping himself down at Eugene’s side, and Gene has never seemed happier. Literally. They’re laughing like two lunatics after five seconds, eventually forcing all conversation to a halt because it’s drowned out by their hysterical giggling. Bill comes back in the middle of their fit, looking suspicious but also extraordinarily pleased with himself.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Spina gives up. Trying to figure this mess out is giving him a headache, which he was only planning to let alcohol do tonight. Speaking of which, Malarkey has made himself a car bomb and then left it standing because he’s fighting with Skip, and Ralph decides this to be one of many drinks he’s going to steal from his friends tonight.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His head eases up a bit after that. At one point, Bill looks over at him, raising his eyebrows while Babe and Eugene make up some excuse to leave. Ralph doesn’t shy away from it, trying to wordlessly communicate to his friend that whatever is going on in his head right now, it’s not leading up to anything good.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Of course Bill wasn’t going to listen, though.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How long have you known?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ralph groans. He hasn’t even gotten out of the door to the club before Bill pounces on him, and he doesn’t have the energy to do much else. He’s halfway to drunk, his ears are ringing and he’s happy and exhausted after a night of screaming at his friends over the beat of music. Babe and Eugene had left, and Ralph could finally relax, and apparently that meant drinking a lot of stolen shit.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It wasn’t the plan, but here he is. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Now Ralph’s in the mood to go home while drunkenly texting Renée — just to give her some blackmail material, because he’s a good guy like that — make an overstuffed messy sandwich that he’ll enjoy the hell out of and then fall asleep in front of his laptop. He is not in the mood for Bill Fucking Guarnere crowding him against the wall of a club to ask invasive questions about their friends.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m really not in the fucking—“ he tries, but Bill doesn’t even let him finish it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How long have you fucking known, Spina?” He asks instead, pressing Ralph into the wall with one very determined hand. Ralph can see the bouncers eyeing them suspiciously and crossing their arms in a weak attempt at sending a message, clearly anticipating this to turn into a fight. He decides to just give in.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay— Fuck, fine, I don’t care,” he says, staring over Bill’s stupid shoulder because he’s had enough of his stupid face to last a lifetime. “Go ahead and interrogate me if you want, but you’re gonna have to do it in a taxi because I’m too tired for this. Got it?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bill huffs but lets go of Spina’s shoulder, helping him hail a cab and actually staying silent until they get in it. Ralph kinda wants to flip the bouncers off, but he’s also not looking to get his face smashed in by two overinflated egos at two AM, so he settles for just glaring at them as the driver punches in his address in the GPS.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They’re quiet until the cab has pulled away, at which point Bill turns to Spina and opens his mouth. Ralph, more done with this situation than he’s ever been with anything his entire life, interrupts him before he has the chance to say anything.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t— Don’t fucking ask me a third time,” Spina half-shouts, shooting an apologetic look to the man in the driver’s seat when he glares back at them. “Don’t, Bill. And— why does this even fucking matter to you?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Babe’s my fucking brother, Ralph,” he spits out like he’s trying to keep himself calm. His jaw is jutted to a ridiculous degree even by Bill’s standards, and he’s staring at Spina like he wants to burrow his eyes into his fucking soul. “And I fucking care about him more than any of you assholes, so you’re gonna tell me what you fucking know about this, and you’re gonna do it now. Now, how long has Gene been fucking my best friend?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Spina sighs, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He’s really not getting out of this one, is he? <em>Sorry, Gene. I’ll buy you a couple of drinks once this is over, promise.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know exactly,” he eventually says after that mock vow, sagging into his seat as he gives in. “Since February, I think. Maybe—“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“February?!” Bill shouts, without looking apologetic despite the audible discontented noise from the front. Fuck his guilty, polite heart, Ralph is going to have to tip this fucking driver so fucking much. “What— You’re telling me this has been going on for months and you haven’t fucking told me?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh calm down, Bill,” Ralph snaps back, shooting the man a glare. “I didn’t fucking tell you because it’s not your fucking business, okay? It’s not even like they told me, I fucking figured it out— I will not tell you how, sit the fuck down.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bill chews on the inside of his lip like he’s contemplating punching Ralph in the face, or telling the cab driver to take him to Babe and Gene’s so he can punch at least one of them in the face, and Ralph is fucking done. He rolls his eyes so hard they might actually get stuck in the back of his head.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“For fuck’s sake,” he tells Bill, “why does this matter to you? Hell, I like gossiping as much as any of us, and I get wanting to be in on shit, but you’re not entitled to anyone’s secrets but your own. They’re clearly happy with whatever arrangement they have, they’re not hurting anyone, so who fucking cares?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That shuts Bill up for real, because Ralph’s right. Even with his thick-headed, old-fashioned skull, Bill must know it. And, look, it’s not that he doesn’t get the feeling of mild indignation about not being told the news, because the question has been on Ralph’s own mind, a lot. <em>Why hasn’t Gene told him? Why hasn’t Ralph been invited into this part of his life? Why the fucking secrecy?</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He ran out of reasonable answers a long time ago. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eugene is a private person, but Babe is not, and Ralph would never in a million years have thought him the guy who would want to keep this kind of thing secret. As far as he knows, Babe has never actually been in anything that you could reasonably call a relationship, and he assumed the boy would blast the news out to the world the second it broke.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Not that he even knows whether that’s what they have, but the more looks he sees them share, the more convinced Ralph becomes that whatever goes on behind the door to Babe and Eugene’s apartment isn’t just about sex. <em>At least not for Gene</em>, he thinks, reminded of the scene that had played out earlier.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t want him to get hurt,” is what Bill eventually says, staring out his side of the car, frowning out into the streets of Philadelphia. “I thought— I always thought he’d tell me, you know? If he— I thought he’d let me—“ </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Bill,” Ralph says softly when it seems like the other man isn’t going to continue. “I don’t think that you’ve got anything to do with… Wait, shit, I mean— Look, you know Babe better than I do, I’m not even going to pretend otherwise. I have no idea why he hasn’t told you, but I can guess, and my guess is it’s because that for whatever reason he doesn’t want to tell you. Not because he doesn’t trust you, but because he wants to keep it for himself, you know?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bill doesn’t look convinced, and Ralph is neither sober or awake enough to really do this, but he tries anyway. He’s a doctor. He’s good at prying the truth out of people, he thinks. “Come on, Bill, talk to me. Tell me what’s really bothering you here.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Of course, he also should have known better than to actually expect Bill Guarnere to deal with his feelings. The man stays silent, and it’s not more than thirty seconds before the cab pulls up outside Ralph’s building. He pays the driver with a very deep sigh, unbuckling his seatbelt and turning back to Bill for a second.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey,” Spina says, resting his hand on Guarnere’s shoulder. “Babe loves you, Bill. I know he does, and he trusts you. Just… Just try and trust him, too, okay?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Unconvinced eyes drag up and down Ralph’s face, but neither of them actually push away from it. Eventually Bill nods, running his tongue over his bottom lip thoughtfully.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, sure,” he says, and it’s as good as Spina’s gonna get. He knows this and accepts it with a squeeze of his hand, but gets called on as he’s climbing out of the taxi. “Hey, Doc. Thanks, or whatever.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ralph looks at Bill’s squinting face, and gives him a wide smile. “Any time,” he says before shutting the car door. The taxi pulls away after a few seconds, leaving Spina to just take a deep breath and hope that he did enough.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“God damn it, Gene,” he mutters to himself as he starts fumbling for his keys and moving up to his door.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s later than he’d liked, but Ralph finally gets to eat his sandwich and text his friends, and when he falls asleep any thought of Babe and Eugene have left his mind.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Apart from the Bill situation, things continue on rather undramatically. Ralph has never been a person to really care that much about what other people get up to, as long as they seem happy doing it, and Eugene most definitely looks happy doing whatever it is that he’s doing.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ultimately, that’s what makes him feel confident in his choice to not say anything, and to force Guarnere to also keep his fucking mouth shut. The man clearly isn’t thrilled about it, but if he sees anything in Babe like what Ralph sees in Eugene, then surely he must buy that this is a good thing.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Because it’s so obvious, every time Ralph meets him, that Eugene is pretty close to looking the happiest he ever has right now. The whole summer passes, Babe and Gene spending more time with each other and less with their friends, but when they all do get together there’s an air surrounding both of them that’s hard to argue with.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They both seem more relaxed. Now sure, Spina isn’t hugely good friends with Babe outside his role as Eugene’s roommate and Babe’s always been calmer when he’s at home with less people around, but he still thinks he’s able to tell a difference. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Babe continues to be his incredibly charming self, a people person of merit and loud as all hell, but there seems to be something more self-assured about his whole being. Like he’s less manically trying to make friends and instead just energetically having a good time. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eugene, on the other hand, seems as calm as ever, but Ralph knows his tells well enough to be able to tell that there’s a lot less frantic energy there. Both of them have always been more inclined to find a somewhat quiet corner of the room, and then spend the night watching the chaos from there, and they still do that.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">(It’s both because their friends making idiots out of themselves is a great show, and also because neither of them really have the energy to get directly involved. Their friend group is energetic, to put it gently, and Ralph and Eugene are… Not.)</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But usually, there’s an edge to Gene that’s kind of missing nowadays. Eugene cares intensely about his friends, and that means he worries about them, which means that in any situation that includes a large amount of people and any quantity of alcohol, Gene is going to be a bit of a nervous wreck.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ralph isn’t sure if anyone else has ever noticed, including Eugene himself, because he’s very good at hiding it. But Ralph does, because if Gene’s job is to watch over all their friends, then Ralph’s job is to watch over Eugene. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So he does, sits close and holds quiet conversations with him, bumping their shoulders together until Gene forgets to be anxious over whatever nonsense Skip, Alex and Malark are currently getting up to. His hope has always been to one day manage to beat ‘<em>these are not children, they can take care of themselves, and even if they can’t, it’s not your job to take cafe of them for them</em>’ into his head, but it’s never quite worked.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">What has worked, however, is apparently Babe Heffron. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">For the last couple of months, Eugene has begun watching over their friends with far less nervous energy and more relaxed fondness. He’ll still frown whenever someone gets into a drinking competition, or when Toye picks someone (usually George) up by the waist to win some argument or other, but it seems to be in amusement rather than worry. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And if he does start getting that twitchy edge to him, Babe is suddenly there. It’s almost like he has a sixth sense. He starts appearing at Eugene’s side like magic whenever Gene’s mother hen instincts take over, and Gene calms down like clockwork whenever he does.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Spina still has no idea how the fuck nobody but him and Bill have noticed, but maybe it’s because the two of them are the ones who know Eugene and Babe the best, meaning they’re the only ones who catch on to the fact that their sense of personal space really hasn’t deteriorated this fucking much.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Because Babe will just come over and plop himself down on Gene’s lap, mouth running about this or that while gesticulating wildly, and Gene will melt in response. He’ll still scrounge his forehead up like Babe is being ridiculous, which he is, but also let Babe make himself comfortable on his lap.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Any worried tension will bleed out of Eugene’s shoulders as he listens to whatever nonsense Babe is yammering on about, until something calls for Babe’s attention and he bounces back to the other side of the room.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s… domestic. It also seems to help Eugene out, so Ralph hasn’t got it in him to be bothered about it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There are other things, too, like the fucking lunch box notes again. Babe has been putting notes into Eugene’s packed lunches for years, ever since him and Ralph were still in school and could spend hours and hours in the library trying to memorise veins and muscles. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Back then it was more of a comic relief to Eugene’s undoubtedly horrible day, which was sorely appreciated, and had been one of the first things that really endeared Ralph to Eugene’s childishly ridiculous new roommate.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Now, though, Gene looks at the silly little slips of paper like they’re pictures of his own kids. Ralph means that. Amanda, one of his nurse friends that just came back from maternity leave, looks at the pictures her boyfriend sends of their toddler the same way Eugene looks at those lunch box notes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Apparently, the surgery residents have a betting pool on how long it’ll take for Eugene to just fess up to the fact that he has a boyfriend already, something Ralph finds tasteless but isn’t going to bring any more attention to.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There’s also the fact that Eugene seems to actually be eager to get off of work lately — not just happy to be off the clock, but actually like he’s in a hurry to get back home. Work has always been Gene’s life, at least for as long as Ralph has known him; a whole childhood spent working hard enough to get scholarships, moving halfway across the country once he did, spending every available moment making sure he’s prepared and won’t lose what he has. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And then, for the last few months, Gene slowly started trying to make sure he has enough time off to be home. Sundays, holidays, nights, the shifts Eugene always took because nobody else wanted them, are suddenly not interesting to him any more.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ralph hasn’t asked about it. It’s none of his business. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He had let Eugene know that the change suited him, however.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m glad you’re taking more time off work, Gene,” he’d said once when they’d sat down for lunch together. Eugene had looked up from the slip of paper in his lunchbox, and he had nodded to it. “What’s it say today?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s nothing,” was Gene’s response, shaking his head like he was embarrassed about it, but his eyes were still a bit soft around the edges. Ralph took a large bite out of his sandwich in lieu of recognising the lie. “But thank you. I’m— I’ve been doing more things at home, lately, it’s been nice.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let me know if you ever need help with anything,” Ralph said around his sandwich. Eugene, predictably, had just grinned down at nothing.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thanks. I will,” he’d smiled, tucking the note away into his bag, and that had been it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ralph sometimes wondered what Gene did with them all; they weren’t huge slips of paper, but throughout the years they must’ve started piling up. If Eugene and Babe made their whatever-it-was public, that would probably turn out to be his first question.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Then, one night weeks later, Ralph gets a phone call from Renée. He’s in the middle of a heated debate on the correct way to interpret the grappling rules — don’t ask. Please, don’t ask — when his phone lights up. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Normally, he’d ignore it as phones are a no-go when playing D&amp;D with his friends, but the second he sees her name on the screen it feels like a ‘get out of jail free’-card has been dumped in his lap. <em>And this, Ralph, is why we keep our friend groups separated,</em> he tells himself smugly as he gets up from his seat to take the call.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“God, Renée, am I glad you called, ” is what he plans to say when he gets his phone up to his ear, but doesn’t actually get more than a few syllables out before he’s interrupted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You have to go pick up Eugene,” she tells him the second he picks up. “I don’t know what happened, Ralph. He called and asked if he could stay here for the night, but didn’t want to tell me what… I think he’s been crying, and I didn’t want to push it. I just said I’d send you over, because you have the car. Please, tell me you can?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Well, of all the things that could have derailed his night, this was not one he was expecting. “What the hell?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know, Ralph,” Renée says, annoyance coating her voice. He can recognise it as that specific brand of ‘I cannot control this situation, so I hate it’ frustration that her and Eugene both have in common, but she’s even busting out the guttural R as she says his name, and she only does that when she’s stressed or worried out of her mind.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And then she continues, “I asked if Babe was home, but apparently he’s not, and Gene doesn’t even want me to call him? I don’t understand what’s going on,” and Spina’s heart sinks. Because oh no. <em>Oh no, this isn’t good</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m going,” Ralph replies immediately, barely even taking the time to tell the group goodbye. “Call Eugene and let him know I’ll be there in fifteen. Don’t worry about the Babe thing, I’ll check with him about it when I get there.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eugene hasn’t called in an emergency since they were still in school, and even back then Babe was the third-hand man involved in Eugene Care, meaning that whatever the fuck is happening with him right now is… Not good, probably.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He has a sinking feeling he might know what’s going on, but has no idea what to do if he’s right. “God damn it, Gene,” he says under his breath once he’s jogging up to his car, having ditched his friends and his plans without a second thought.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When he gets to the apartment building, Eugene is already outside. Ralph’s heart clenches when he sees him, because Gene is looking like he’s in about seven different kinds of pain at once.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’s sitting on the steps leading up to the apartment building, smoking what is probably the fiftieth cigarette in a row, hunched in on himself and occasionally looking up and around like he’s searching from something. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Barely having the time to pull over to the curb before Eugene stands up, Ralph doesn’t bother properly parking. Gene tosses his cigarette and all but runs up to the car, getting the door open and inside faster than Ralph has ever seen him move outside of the hospital.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Please,” Gene says before Ralph even opens his mouth. He sounds and looks exhausted, pulling his legs up until his knees are almost up to his chin. “I don’t wanna talk, just go, please.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Good luck on sticking to that,</em> Ralph thinks, nonetheless pulling away into the road without saying anything. Eugene smells like an ashtray, and looks like he’s on the brink of about three different panic attacks, and neither is a particularly good sign.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They’re going to have to talk about this, because whatever the fuck has happened to Eugene since he left work looking like a human being a couple of hours ago, it’s sending Ralph’s worry instincts through the fucking roof of the car. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ralph has seen Gene in a number of states through the years — stressed to the point of not being able to keep food down, worrying about ill family members until he got sick himself from it, stretched out thin enough to snap with the pressure of school work and impressing his mentors, but this already feels different.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eugene doesn’t let himself crack, which has kind of been part of the issue. He runs himself far past the point of collapse, but refuses to crumble, leaving his body no choice but to just kind of shut down in lieu of having a breakdown. Time and time again, Gene has shown himself to be the kind of person who refuses to acknowledge that he can no longer deal with whatever shit is troubling him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Seeing him curled up on Ralph’s passenger seat trembling like a leaf, after having called Renée in enough hysterics to get even her to freak out, is unsettling. After two minutes, he knows they’re going to have to pull over, because Eugene looks like he’s going to vomit. Ralph knows what a panic attack looks like when he sees it, and this is one.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As he tries to find a good and quiet place to stop, Gene presses both his hands over his own face, moves them down to his mouth, and then to cover his ears. His eyes are screwed shut, he’s breathing like he just ran a marathon, and it’s close to the most unsettling thing Ralph has ever seen.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s okay,” he mumbles, finally finding a good spot in a calm street. “I got you now, just hold on for a moment, alright Gene?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s nonsense, the things he’s saying. He doesn’t even know if Eugene can really hear him, but he keeps it up anyway, until they’re stopped and he can turn the car engine off. Barely checking that he’s not going to open his door into an upcoming car, he gets out, half runs around the hood and pulls the passenger door open.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“C’mon, Gene, let’s get you out. Lean on me, it’s okay, just gonna get you sitting down on the ground for a second, there you go.” Ralph talks to Eugene like he talks to the parents of his patients sometimes, he knows. If he were in any state to, Gene would call him out on it, but he doesn’t.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Instead, he just lets himself get unbuckled and dragged out, clinging to Ralph with one hand like he’s being pulled out of a sinking ship. Really not being strong enough to carry a grown man, Ralph tries to manoeuvre Eugene around slowly, but realises he’s either going to have to pick between comfort or efficiency here.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s clumsy, but he gets Gene sitting on the curb, getting down behind him until he can pull Eugene’s back flush against his own chest and hold him still. Ralph really hopes that Gene’s preferred method of comfort is still bone-crushing physical touch, because that’s what it was back in college, and it’s the only thing he can think of to do right now. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">With one of Ralph’s arms around his waist and the other diagonally over his chest and gripping his shoulder, there isn’t far that Eugene can get. Not that he isn’t trying, pushing himself forward with seemingly no real plan of action or control over the movement, attempting to twist himself around a his breathing flips between held breaths and rushes of air either in or out.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Eugene,” Ralph tries telling him as Gene starts making a noise like he’s choking. “Eugene, listen to me, you need to breathe with me. You feel my chest? Breathe with me, nice long breath in now, there you go.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Closing his eyes (more for himself than for Eugene), Ralph can only hear and feel him, but it sounds like it takes Gene about two seconds to start crying. It gets them both to hold on tighter, Ralph squeezing his friend while Eugene is gripping one of Ralph’s arms hard enough to hurt.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ralph tucks his head into the crook of Eugene’s neck, rocks them both slowly back and forth where  they’re sitting on the sidewalk, quietly keeps up the talk-down he’s trying to give. Gene manages to take three breaths before going into open-mouthed hyperventilation, until he pressed one hand to his lips and instead starts panting through his nose.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Come on, Eugene, you have to slow down,” Ralph gently tries telling him, keeping his own breathing exaggeratedly calm. “I know you can, listen to my breathing, try to match it, relax. You can, I know you do. It’s okay. I got you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It takes a minute, but then Eugene slowly starts getting there, gradually managing to get himself back under control. Ralph feels him relax, start to lean back against his chest, eventually turning into more of a slump as his hysterical breathing turns into more of a shivering attempt at normalcy. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gene’s chest is still hacking in that way it does after you’ve been crying and are still having trouble breathing, let alone speaking, but speak Eugene tries anyway.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m—“ he gets out, but with the next intake of breath he sobs again. Ralph eases up his hold, turns it into something softer that Gene more easily can hang his head and cry into. His whole chest is wrecked with the force of it, and Ralph doesn’t know what to do except stay close and hold him. “I’m such— such a piece of shit, Ralph.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s such an un-Eugene thing to say he actually lifts his head up in surprise when he hears it. Ralph just stares at Gene for a few seconds, or, well, he stares at what parts of Gene he can see, because his friend has pressed both of his hands back over his mouth.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>What the fuck happened to you</em>, Ralph thinks, and his chest aches. <em>What happened, what did Babe do, what did you do?</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He kind of wonders if this is what it feels like to want to punch someone, because a part of him wishes there was a way he could do something aggressive and make Eugene feel better for it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, Gene, you’re not,” is what he diplomatically ends up saying instead. Reaching over to the inside of the car door — because he didn’t even bother closing it after wrestling Eugene onto the paving, how’s that for an emergency response — he pulls out the roll of toilet paper he keeps there at all times.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s not gross, it’s smart, because tissues aren’t versatile enough and the Spina family has been a proud member of the scouts for three generations, be quiet. Case in point: Ralph is now able to tear off a few squares and give to Eugene, so he doesn’t have to sit covered in his own snot on this sidewalk any longer.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re not,” Ralph repeats as he hands Gene the paper. “Eugene, you don’t have to tell me anything, but… What happened?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eugene blows his nose, gratefully takes some more paper and rubs his cheeks with it harder than seems comfortable. Ralph doesn’t comment, not even when Gene ends up laughing into it, flat and humourless. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t even… I can’t— I can’t tell you. Not because it’s… I just…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You don’t know where to start?” Ralph finishes for him gently, finally letting go of Eugene when he leans forward, this time. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Making the call that Gene doesn’t seem to need the more aggressive holding anymore, Ralph gently gets out from behind him in favour of sitting down at Eugene’s side instead. When he looks up at Gene, his friend looks… He looks exhausted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Apart from the whole “just had a panic attack on the side of a road” look, which isn’t a good look on anyone, Gene looks wrung-out. He’s leaning his head in his hands and has apparently given up on keeping his shoulders straight, looking like the image of a man who feels regret over his whole life.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ralph doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like that Eugene is clearly needing to fucking talk, but doesn’t know how to, and he has the feeling that if they don’t talk now, it’ll be weeks before he gets another chance.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So he takes a breath, puts a hand on Gene’s back, and says, “look, if I’m wrong, just… Ignore me, but I’m going to take a stab in the dark, here. Eugene, is this… Is this about that guy you’ve been seeing? Did something happen between you two?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Half of him expects himself to now become the victim of a face-punching, but instead Eugene just takes his hands away from his face and looks down into the street between his feet. He looks like he’s given up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">By the way Eugene just says, “yeah,” it seems like the question ‘<em>how did you know</em>’ was supposed to have gone silently asked and answered between them. Ralph buys it. This is not the time or place to go into those details, let alone that Ralph knows who ‘the guy Eugene’s been seeing’ is.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Did you two fight?” he asks instead, stroking his hand over Gene’s spine. He’s surprised to find that Eugene shakes his head, sniffling through his stuffed nose.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No. I just… I broke things off.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He doesn’t offer any more information than that, which makes it difficult for the part of Ralph’s head that’s trying to lay the puzzle pieces into place, here. “Why did you do that, Gene?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Because I care too much about him,” Eugene says, closing his eyes over the fresh tears that come out at the admission. He presses the paper against his face to mop them up, and Ralph’s chest aches for him. “And he doesn’t… He doesn’t. And I couldn’t keep doing what we were doing, because it wasn’t fair to him. I don’t have the right to do that.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gene laughs again, in that same hollow way that makes Ralph’s heart clench, rubbing his fingers over his eyes. “He thinks we were just messing around, and if I don’t… If I feel— I was lying to him, Ralph. I was using him to get something out of it that he didn’t know about, and that’s—“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>It sounds like you were the only one getting hurt, though,</em> Ralph wants to say, but they both get cut off by his phone ringing. It’s Renée, and he only now realises that they’re probably running a bit late. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, everything’s okay, we just needed to stop for a sec, we’ll be over soon,” is what he answers the phone with before she has time to ask.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Renée is quiet for a few moments, while Ralph looks Eugene over to try and gauge whether he’s actually okay to get going. “Okay. I just wanted to let you two know that Anna’s staying at a friend’s tonight, so we’re on our own.” After a second, she tacks on, “tell Eugene I’ve already set Grey’s Anatomy up?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Grey’s Anatomy sounds good,” Ralph echoes, smiling when it makes Gene smile, too. “Grey’s, a sofa and a lot of alcohol is what I think we need right now.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eugene leans over to put his head on Ralph’s shoulder in yet another unusual display of vulnerability on Gene’s behalf. Ralph doesn’t comment on it, just gets a hand around Eugene’s shoulder and hugs him tight.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He wraps up with Renée quickly, but stay sitting with Gene for a few more moments. There’s this gnawing feeling in his chest that at least one person involved here doesn’t have the full story — and he’s only partially convinced that it’s him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Because Ralph might have no interest in relationships, but he doesn’t think he’s an idiot when it comes to recognising what affection looks like on other people. Which is a very clinical way of saying ‘unless he’s mistaken, Babe’s been looking pretty damned attached to Eugene lately’. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Let’s be real, who leaves their roommate lunchbox notes for years without it meaning anything? Who charges their emotional batteries by crawling into said roommate’s lap and tucking their face into their neck, completely platonically? For God’s sake, Babe once called Ralph to ask for Gene’s grandmother’s phone number because he wanted to ask her something about gumbo or whatever it was, because Gene had had a long week and Babe wanted them to do something soft and homey that weekend.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Babe doesn’t exactly act like a person who doesn’t care. And yeah, this is Heffron they’re talking about, but Babe has never marched up to Ralph and asked him for a kiss on the cheek for good luck when playing dart with his friends. Nor has he any of his other friends. Not George, not David, not Bill—</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bill. Fuck. There is no way Bill isn’t going to have an opinion on this.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And either way, it really doesn’t matter what the true story here is. Not right now, because right now Eugene is sitting on a cold street with a broken heart and it’s Ralph’s job as his friend to make him feel better. And by ‘make him feel better,’ Ralph means ‘get him drunk and yelling at a medical soap opera because that’s what we did back in college and it helped then’.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He can’t believe Grey’s Anatomy is still on the air. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I can’t believe Grey’s Anatomy is still on the air,” he says, because it’s true. Feeling like he just made a small victory when Eugene huffs out a much more genuine-sounding laugh at that, Ralph squeezes his friend closer. “Wanna go over to Renée’s and finish a bottle of vodka on your own?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“God, yes,” Gene tells him, and it’s like a silent agreement to let the earlier topic go.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Which Ralph will, at least for tonight, but he has one more thing to say first, before they get back into the car. “Hey, Gene?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eugene looks up from where he’s straightened himself up and moved to get up from the sidewalk. “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re not a piece of shit. You didn’t do anything wrong.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It takes Gene a few moments to respond, looking at Ralph with red-rimmed eyes. They’re not even halfway through autumn, but Eugene has already lost whatever colour his skin picked up over the summer. He looks pale, and sad, the tip of his nose and his lips red from the crying, and Ralph wishes there was something he could do.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thanks,” Eugene whispers, but he doesn’t sound like he believes it. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This isn’t good. This really, really isn’t good. Ralph smiles and squeezes Gene’s hand before he gets up, but he knows this isn’t good. Not that there’s much he can do about it right now, except try to make Eugene feel a bit better, and then…</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He doesn’t know what to do after that. Try to talk to Eugene? Try to talk to Babe? That won’t be mortifying at all, will it. “<em>Yeah, I’ve known about you two for about seven or eight months now, it’s been pretty obvious—</em>“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Stop worrying</em>, he tells himself as he gets back into his seat, Eugene buckling his seat belt next to him. <em>It’s going to be okay, Ralph, Gene will go back home and they’re going to talk, and this mess is going to get sorted out.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yeah. Yeah, that’s what’s going to happen, because Eugene and Babe are grown-ups, and they know how to talk about their problems.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Looking over at his friend, who still seems miserable but less acutely so, Ralph tells himself it’s going to be fine. Who knows, maybe this is what those two needed. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CONTENT WARNINGS</p><p>- Alcohol is depicted, people get drunk, binge drinking as a therapy method is mentioned. A reasonably big amount.</p><p>- Eugene has a panic attack.</p><p>- Hints at feelings of infidelity, no actual infidelity.</p><p>- Lying to and keeping secrets from your friends, and some friends knowing about it. Nothing really comes of it, but it's there.</p><p> </p><p>-------</p><p>A/N: WELL HERE WE ARE AGAIN, my frends. Spina is underrated. Fight me.</p><p>seriously though, I'm genuinely so sorry that this has taken so long, this autumn has kicked my fucking ass but I think I might be getting back on the horse, finally. I'm here now. Yay!</p><p>As mentioned in the start notes, this series is actually almost finished; that was part of why this pause was so long, because I didn't wanna post again until I felt like I actually could set up some kind of schedule and not just have it be a fic every couple of months leading people on with no resolution. I'm not gonna promise a specific upload schedule, but the last two bits should be up the next couple of weeks, with a possible epilogue/porny sequel one-shots coming whenever lmao. </p><p>Thank you all so so much for sticking with me during all of this, I really couldn't have done it without you. I've been pretty shit at responding to comments, but know that I have and do read every single one, and they matter a lot to me.</p><p>Final thing: As a reminder,</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <a href="https://discord.gg/JZVc2Jk">we have a Band of Brothers discord server!</a><br/>
</span>
</p><p>It's is super fun and full of people who love these boys a lot. If you wanna, stop by, we'd love to have you and it would be a lot of fun. &lt;3</p><p class="p1">
  <a href="mariamegale.tumblr.com">I also have tumblr.</a>
</p><p>it's mostly gifs and shitposts, but feel free to yell at me or ask me questions if you want to. &lt;3 </p><p>love y'all, and i'll see you soon!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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